Literature
with an L absorbs my attention in rare book cataloguing here at home, online. A
translation by one of France’s greatest tragedians, Pierre Corneille (born 1606)
of ‘The Imitation of Christ’ into rhyming verse (Brussels, in the year of the translator’s
death, 1684). Notes: One of the most
read books of Western literature, ‘The Imitation of Christ’ is the product of a
religious movement in late medieval Germany and the Netherlands known as the Devotio
Moderna. Perhaps Corneille turned it into verse for public recitation, and because
it came naturally. It’s hard to say why, but it doesn’t matter: the book sold.
Although Thomas à Kempis is generally believed to be the author, dispute persists,
hence many catalogue descriptions of this work grudgingly give him an added
entry, just not to confuse anyone. Translations “by several hands” of Ovid’s Heroides, i.e. the Heroines, but called here
simply Epistles (London, 1680). Notes: Most of these rare books require
original cataloguing, that is to say I describe them from the ground up. Sometimes,
by good fortune, an online record is found and downloaded as occurred here, the
record containing information that would otherwise be missed. It is nowhere
stated, for example, unless you start reading the book, that the poet John Dryden
wrote the Preface. He needs his own entry. He translated three of the epistles,
including ‘Dido to Aeneas’. He collaborated with other poets, who need to be
listed. I’m especially excited to find a flowing version of one of Ovid’s Epistles
translated by Aphra Behn. Here is Virginia Woolf in ‘A Room of One’s Own’: “All
women together ought to
let flowers fall upon the tomb of Aphra Behn which is, most scandalously but
rather appropriately, in Westminster Abbey, for it was she who earned them the
right to speak their minds." Cicero’s Orations, edited and with copious
footnotes in Latin (!) by the Jesuit Charles Merouville (1625-1705), both for
edification and as models for sermon writers (London, 1784). Notes: When the
publisher does not spell the editor’s name correctly, the cataloguer shows patience,
fortitude, and cunning as he scours the best sources to confirm the right
spelling. In Merouville’s case, this is the Library of Congress Name Headings. Generations
of readers on both sides of La Manche used this work throughout the 18th
century, our own copy being this publisher’s Editio Undecima.
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